Something Wicked This Way Comes
by moosesweaters
Summary: Different and strange had always been normal. Anything out of the ordinary had been normal. So when Evan Foster was tossed out of her foster home in a California-Arizona border town and shipped off to Beacon Hills, it was just something completely regular. Well, about as regular as a witch being tossed into a town full of werewolves can get. What could possibly go wrong? [Post 3A]
1. I See Dead People

**A/N: **Sorry for the really shitty summary, but I had a nice one all planned out and then it ended up being to many words. Here's the original: _Different had always been normal. Strange had always been normal. Anything just out of the ordinary had been normal. So when 17-year-old Evan Foster was tossed out of her foster home in a California-Arizona border town and shipped off to Beacon Hills, it was just something completely regular in her eyes. Well, about as regular as a witch being tossed into a town full of werewolves can get; I mean, what could possibly go wrong? (Hint: almost absolutely everything.) [Post 3A; Intended Isaac/OC]_. I just wanted to make sure you read that. That is all, you can get to reading now. c:

(Also sorry for the terrible pun I made with the chapter title. It'll make more sense once you get to the end of the chapter, if you even catch it.)

* * *

"_There's nothing to be scared of_," I whispered to myself as I held the apartment key in my hand, which was shaking lightly. I was the only person in the hall and I was just staring at the door to the apartment that now belonged to me, looking at the number that was plaqued onto the door; 2B.

I managed to get the key into the slot without dropping it. I twisted it, grabbing for the door knob next and turning it gingerly before kicking the door lightly with my foot. The room was dark, and from what I could barely make out, thick curtains were drawn, blocking any of the midday sunlight from filtering into the room. I shoved the key into my pocket, exchanging it for my phone, deciding to use it as a light until I could find a light switch. I stepped in, leaving my suitcase and backpack in the hall. I was hit with a vaguely musty smell as soon as I stepped foot into the apartment, like the smell of a place that's in the woods and hasn't been used for months and your just letting fresh air into the place now - that kind of musty smell. I scanned the wall to the left, which was not that long and had a coat-hanger/keyrack hanging on it, as well as a place to stuff umbrellas into. No luck with a light switch on that side. I switched to the other wall, which was equally as long, and found the switch. I flicked it on, revealing a living room at the end of the short hallway. I reached back outside from the threshold of the apartment, grabbing the handle on my suitcase and one of the arms of my backpack, pulling them both inside and shutting the door firmly behind me.

The first thing I noticed was that there was a thin layer of dust covering everything. Not enough to be bothersome, just enough to be seen. I tugged my belongings behind me as I walked into the living room, noticing an island and a kitchen to my right. I set my suitcase next to the couch and my backpack on it, interested as to what else this apartment had in it. Making my way into the kitchen, I dragged my hand across the counter, throwing up some of the dust that had settled there. A swiffer was going on the to-get list. The kitchen itself was fully stocked; a stove, an oven, a toaster, a microwave, a fridge and even a dishwasher. Wow. I peaked into the fridge, only to find it empty. Damn. I'd have to go and get some groceries later. (And by groceries, I mean dinosaur chicken nuggets and oven curly fries. Don't judge.) There was a small hallway that led off from the kitchen, which I discovered held the washer and dryer, along with an ironing board. Sadly, there was no laundry detergent or dryer sheets. Yep, I'd definitely need to go grocery shopping. I walked back into the kitchen, but this time I was surprised by something I had not seen on my first entry to the kitchen. There was a series of cupboards opposite the ones I had passed by at first, across the island that divided the small kitchen; the cupboard in the middle had a small triquetra carved into the bottom center of the wood. I knew that symbol, or at least knew of it. I approached the cupboard and pulled open the door gingerly, not sure what I was about to find in it. There were glass bottles in it. Not like Coca-Cola bottles, or bottles you assume that witches' brews come in, but those similar to what candles come in; a wide, circular jar with a metal top. There were about seven or so jars, each one of them labelled. Huh. Those'd be useful. I shut the cupboard door and continued my exploration of the apartment.

I went back to the living room, surveying the medium sized room; it was actually pretty big for an apartment. There was a single three-cushioned couch, a rug, and a television mounted onto the wall, which was facing the kitchen and where the heavy curtains were drawn. There was a hall in the corner farthest from door, which lead to two bedrooms, and a bathroom. The master bedroom had a master bathroom and a walk-in closet, which was a pleasant surprise. For once, I'd actually have a room to myself, a closet to myself, a_bathroom _to myself. No more sharing, all of it was mine. I walked back out into the living room, grabbing my belongings and putting them into the master bedroom, unpacking my things. Clothes in the walk-in closet, hair brush and deodorant in the bathroom, personal belongings in the beside dresser. I plugged my phone charger into the first outlet I could find. I pulled the last thing out of my backpack, and set it on the bedside dresser; a framed picture, cracked in the lower right corner, with a picture of two women kissing either side of my cheeks when I was younger, probably about five. The woman to the right looked exactly like me - the same fair skin, the same blonde hair that was so blonde that it was almost white, the same debateably blue-grey eyes. The woman on the left was quite the opposite - she had tanned skin, dark frizzy hair and hazel eyes. After looking it over, I set the picture face down.

After I was settled, I immediately though about taking a nap, my four-hour bus ride from my border-town foster home to Beacon Hills taking all life outta me. Granted, I did sleep on the bus a little, but the constant stops woke me every time. I jumped down on the bed, face-first, which was a total mistake because I sent up a flurry of dust that had gathered on the soft duvet, sending some of it up my nose and in my mouth. Totally a big mistake. I just sighed into the vaguely dust-covered bed spread. I reached back, not lifting my face from the duvet, and into my back pocket, pulling out a piece of crumpled paper and bringing in front of me. I propped myself up on my elbows and held the piece of paper, uncrumpling and unfolding it so I could read what it said.

_Evan -_

_As soon as you reach Beacon Hills, go to..._blah blah blah..._and call Alan Deaton. He runs the local animal clinic, and will be able to help you. I've already called ahead to let him know your coming. Please, be safe, and don't get into any trouble. I don't want to have to run all the way to Beacon Hills just to sort out your crap. Call if you need me._

_Love, Sophie_

I crumpled the paper back up and shoved it into my pocket. I let out a sigh and rolled off the bed, grabbing my phone from the charger and walking back out to the living room, out the door of the apartment. I dialed in Deaton's number as I locked the door behind me, heading down the hall and to the stairs.

**.**

I entered the animal clinic warily, and there was a stout man standing behind the front desk. He glanced up, looking at me as I walked in.

"Evan Foster, I presume?" he asked. I just nodded, and he smiled. Just from his smile, I got the impression that he was one of those people you could trust completely and tell everything to. He walked from behind the desk to where there was a break in the same wood that lined under the desk, a gate. He pulled it back and motioned for me to go in. I followed his direction, walking through an open doorway into what I assumed was an operating room. There was an x-ray holder and medical posters plastered everywhere, and there was a line of jars similar to the ones that were in my cupboard at home lining one of the counters.

"So, how was your trip?" he asked, closing the gate and following me.

"Long and boring," I groaned, leaning against the operating table. He didn't seen to mind, and smiled again at my response.

"Typical of long bus rides. How have you found Beacon Hills so far?"

"Well, I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary, but I haven't had any time to explore yet."

"Do you have any supplies?"

"Sophie packed me some stuff, and there's a cupboard in the kitchen that's stocked, but I don't know how old the stuff is."

"I could provide you with more, if you ever need it. What's in the cupboard should be fine to use, as long as there isn't any mold growing on it."

There was a short silence, a sort of uncomfortable one.

"Did Sophie tell you?" I asked in a quite voice. I wasn't sure if she would've, but it seemed like a thing that would be important to know.

"Yes, she did, but she didn't explain it all too far. She was hoping you would tell me yourself."

"Well, then I'll just start from the beginning. Of course, you know my mom was a druid, witch, whatever you want to call it. I inherited that. It started happening when I was really little, and at first I just thought they were -" I stopped talking, feeling the air shift. Something was coming this way. The bell that hung on the front door of the clinic could be heard ringing, along with shuffling footsteps. Two boys stepped into view, just outside the barrier that divided the front of the clinic from the operating room. One of the two - the shorter, tanner one - smiled and tapped the barrier.

"Gonna let us in?" the short one asked in the politest-sounding way possible with a crooked grin. The taller one - fairer than the shorter one with curly blonde hair - said nothing, instead just standing silently behind his companion.

"Yes, of course," Deaton said, walking from where he was standing in the operating room and over to the gate, opening it and leaving it hanging open this time. Ahh, that's why the air had felt strange. He walked back into the operating room with the boys in tow, and I crossed my arms over my chest. There must have been something vaguely intimidating about me, because the boys strayed off to the side and the taller boy refused to make eye contact; I mean, hell, I'm pretty sure I was the exact opposite of intimidating. Five foot five of of fair skin and blue eyes, lots of sarcasm, but nothing to be very afraid of. Before the three of them could say anything, I was speaking.

"Introducing me to the local werewolves?" I said, raising my eyebrows at Deaton. The two boys looked a little shocked, while Deaton had a bemused expression on his face.

"How did you know that?" asked the short one, his eyebrows bunched together in frustration. I ignored him, but instead looked him over briefly, before resting on his shirt sleeve; well, more of what was partially hidden by his shirt sleeve. I pushed off the operating table and went over to him, pulling up his sleeve so I could get a good look at it. He looked a bit surprised to have me tugging at his shirt.

"Yeah, what I saw," I muttered. I took a step back, looking at the pair together. "You're the alpha, with your second in command." I squinted, looking intently at the alpha's face. "True alpha, too. I can feel it. So thick you could cut it with a knife. That was quite a show you put up there, crossing over that mountain ash." I looked over my shoulder, back at Deaton. "You're an emissary to a true alpha?"

"How do you know all this?" the alpha asked, while the mouth of his second in command was hanging open slightly.

"Well, the bus, a little bit of Sophie and just general knowledge."

The alpha just leaned around me, looking to Deaton and gestured to me with a confused look.

"Scott, Isaac, this is Evan Foster. She's a druid -"

"Witch," I cut in. "I prefer to be called a witch, since I can do things that druid, ya' know, _can't_."

"She's a _witch_, and she has a special gift."

"I can see things," I clarified. "The future, the past, I sometimes have hyper-realistic dreams. It's crazy weird. As for how I knew that other stuff, well, the bus; dreams. I saw you. Well, not exactly you. Parts of you. Your tattoo, your glowing red eyes, the point you passed through the mountain ash. Sophie had already told me there were werewolves in Beacon Hills. And just the general knowledge of know what the energy of a werewolf feels like. I used to live in a house of six of them, I think I can tell when a werewolf enters a room with me in it." I wiggled my fingers like a dancer would do with jazz hands. "Special gift."

"And she'll be working here, with you, Scott."

"I'm the Luke Skywalker to his Yoda," I whispered, nudging Scott in the arm, and he just gave me a confused look. "Don't tell me you haven't seen Star Wars."


	2. The Cheerio Box Stalker

After getting home last night, I completely ditched the idea of going to the grocery store and just ended up order pizza and watching some cable television that the TV in the living room apparently had. I had not taken into account, though, the possibility of a TV show marathon going on, all the episodes from the three seasons being played back to back, leading up to the premiere of the fourth season. I finished three-fourths of the pizza and was up until four in the morning watching television, but I didn't make it until the season premiere; I feel asleep on the couch before I could make it past the halfway mark of the third season.

My sleep was void of dreams, something that only happened when I was seeing something; like my infrequent bus napping. I had seen glimpses of of Scott and his pass through the mountain ash - which, I needed to admit, was pretty badass. I had actually ended up brushing some of the dust off of my jacket after I had seen what he had done; it was usually a rare occurrence, being able to pull some of what I had seen into my world. But the event that had happened was powerful enough to break the "this shouldn't happen because it's scientifically _impossible_" barrier. But then again, most of what happened regularly at Beacon Hills and Sophie's Home for Wayward Supernatural Creatures (as my housemates and I had affectionately called the foster home) was not in what would be deemed as the "this is normal, completely normal, nothing strange happening here" zone.

When I woke up somewhere around noon-ish, I ate two of the three remaining slices of my pizza (even though I forgot to put it in the fridge but whatever. Pizza is pizza, my friend) and rolled off the couch, heading towards my bedroom. I took a shower and changed into a pajama-like outfit that could easily be mistaken for being presentable: a grey short sleeve shirt, tight yoga pants, a slightly oversized red and black flannel, a maroon scarf and black combat boots.

I took my time getting to the door, walking lazily towards the door at least three times before venturing back into my room, getting the feeling I was forgetting something. I remembered what I had forgotten on the fourth trip from the door to my room: my grocery list. I had complied one on my phone, but wrote it all down as I was ordering my pizza last night and stuck it in the fridge (since I didn't have any magnets to stick it _on _the fridge) so I wouldn't forget it. I walked over to the fridge and pulled open the door, taking the list from the shelf it was resting on. I slipped it into my pocket with my phone and my keys, finally ready to leave my apartment and get some groceries.

**.**

I kicked down the bike stand and pulled off my helmet, dragging a hand through my hair to smooth it out. I hopped off the bike and stuffed the helmet into the space under the seat. I was honestly surprised when I had found a motorcycle waiting for me in my parking spot at the apartment. I mean, Sophie had said that there was a surprise waiting for me when I got to Beacon Hills, but I sure as hell wasn't expecting a _motorcycle. _She had taught me to ride a motorcycle, and she used to let me take the one she had at the home to school when I could drive - which was only for a year and a half. But this was _Sophie's _motorcycle and she had given it to _me. _I had made a mental note yesterday to call her and thank her, but I had never gotten around to it. I sighed, deciding that she could do without a call from me for a few days. I mean, I was almost a legal adult, and she was a grown woman. We could manage time apart.

I pushed the thoughts of Sophie and calling her out of my brain and began walking towards the entrance to the grocery store, pulling my list out of my pocket. I had written the following: swiffer, milk, orange juice, cereal, chicken nuggets, oven fries, bread, peanut butter, jelly...that's all that I had added to the list. It wasn't really much, just enough to stock my house with food that I would eat. I'd probably throw some microwave pizzas in there or ice cream. Definitely ice cream. How had I forgotten ice cream? I had to balance my budget, already spending $20 of the $250 that Sophie had provided me with so I could actually eat before I got my first pay check.

I got everything on the first half of my list in the first 15 minutes if being at the store, which had included lots of backtracking and trying to figure out if there was any order to the way the aisles were organized. When I was grabbing a handful of microwave pizzas (a handful is how many boxes I can grab at any given time, which is like five. I was grabbing five microwave pizzas), I swore I saw a familiar face in the slightly frosty glass pass behind me. When I turned around and looked down the aisle, I saw no one that I could recognize. Huh. Maybe I was just seeing things. Wouldn't be the first time. Next row over was the chicken nuggets and oven fries, so I meandered over a row and began looking for specifics: dinosaur-shaped nuggets and curly fries I could make in the oven. When I walked down the aisle, I saw someone familiar; the same person I thought I had seen walking behind me via frozen section door. I just went along my business, not wanting to bother him, and actually finding some dinosaur-shaped nuggets and _Arby's _oven curly fries. Arby's curly fries are the best. Score.

As I walked down the cereal aisle, I spotted some familiar curly blond hair. _Again_. I walked to the shelf stocked with Fruity Pebbles, taking one of the family-sized boxes and shoving it into the plastic basket with my other groceries ("kid's cereal" be damned, Fruity Pebbles are delicious and I plan to eat them until I cannot eat cereal any longer). Being as discreet as I could I wandered down the aisle a bit, stopping a few feet from Isaac, who was standing in front of a shelf stocked with Cheerio's, in varying box sizes. He was holding a list and squinting at it, then looking back up at the boxes then back down at the list, like he couldn't read the writing on it. I took a few big steps closer to him, squinting at the paper he was holding, scanning the list for Cheerio's.

"Just get the big box," I said, having unintentionally leaned towards him. Apparently, I scared the shit out of him because he jumped when I spoke. He did grab the big box, placing it in his basket. "So are you stalking me or something? Because I've seen you at least three times already in the last ten minutes."

"I- uh," he said, instantly blushing. "No, I'm not stalking you."

"Just an incredibly unlikely coincidence?"

"Yeah, I guess."

There was a short silence. It was incredibly awkward, and the only thing I could think of to say came out of my mouth.

"Well, you enjoy those Cheerio's," I said, motioning vaguely to his basket and taking a step back. "See you around."

**.**

Scott and I had been left to close up shop at the clinic, and we were just milling around, doing chores that needed to be done. Deaton had turned the front sign from reading "open" to "closed" when he had left, so there was no one to expect at the door. It was mostly quiet as we worked to clean, organize and take care of the animals that were currently residing at the clinic.

I walked across the operating room, towards the cat cages. They needed to be fed, and I had volunteered to do so, leaving Scott to clean their litter. But as I crossed the room, the edges of my vision were beginning to cloud, turning a milky white. I could see the the room shift in front of me, tilting to the side and then moving up quickly. My vision was nearly all white when I saw Scott's face, the ceiling behind his head. His lips were moving, but I couldn't make out what he was saying, nor hear him. Everything went white, and there was the dull sound of white noise in my ears.

My pupils dilated so wide that my irises were almost not visible beneath them. I didn't blink or move my eyes at all. Scott was trying to talk to me.

_Wolfsbane petals were everywhere, all different strains in varying blues and purples and just a few in yellow: western monkshood, aconitum, yellow monkshood, and kamchatka aconite, just to name a few._

My breathing became shallow and my back arched. Scott's words became panicked.

_The petals had vanished. A pair of eyes changed from a steel blue to a searing red._

My body began to seize, but I wasn't aware of it. He didn't know what to do, and was freaking out a little.

_A hand appeared, outstretched. The body attached to it was hazy, like the person was standing behind a panel of frosted glass._

I groaned in pain, an involuntary act. He did the only thing he could think of.

_The body was slowly moving closer, the figure becoming less and less hazy. But the image suddenly began to dissolve, the ceiling of the animal clinic showing itself. A voice whispered "come with me" as the image of the body faded, the ceiling becoming the only thing I could see._

I sucked in a sharp breath. A wave of pain spread across my head, both inside and out. I could feel a migraine taking root in the middle of my brain. My vision was a little blurry, but I could see Scott sitting on the floor next to me, holding my arm, veins of black dissipating quickly from his forearm. I sat up - which was a mistake, the pain flaring in my frontal lobe. I yanking my arm from his hand and stood - which, too, was a mistake - my legs almost gave out underneath me, but I steadied myself against the operating table.

"Don't ever do that again," I said in a stern, resting my weight against the metal table. "Never _ever _do that again."

"You were seizing on the floor and sounded like you were in pain," he said as he stood up. "What did you want me to do?"

"Leave me be - I can't control what happens when I start seeing things."

"You - you saw something?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

I sighed, nodding and running a hand through my hair, only to cause a few wolfsbane petals flutter from my head down to the tiled floor. That earned a surprised look from Scott. I just shrugged my shoulders at him.

"I'll be right back. I need to call Deaton." I pushed off from the table, hobbling my way over to the back door. "And don't listen in. I know how those wolf ears work, and what I saw doesn't concern you."


	3. The Wolfsbane Incident

I had the door to my "witch cupboard" wide open, all of the jars spread out on the island. Some of them were open and empty, while other had yet to be opened. I had decided to go on and catalog all of the ingredients I had, making "I have this" and "I need to get more of this" lists on a spare sheet of paper. I had gone and tossed some of the contents out of a few of the jars because they were starting to grow some weird colored mold, which Deaton had advised that was not good. After completing a short list, I took the jars that still contained things and shoved them back into the witch cupboard, leaving the remaining four jars on the counter as I reminder to go out and get some more of whatever the jar was labeled as at a more decent hour, and when I had more money; witch shit can be super expensive. I chewed on the tip of the pen as I looked over the two lists, trying to see if I was missing anything. Nope, nothing else I could think of, but I still had to go and get the supplies out of my suitcase that Sophie had packed me. Sophie...I was going to call her tomorrow, finally, even though it had only been two days. Two days was enough time to wait, right?

I took the list and stuck it under a magnet - yes, I had gotten some magnets while I was out shopping - on the fridge so I wouldn't forget about it. I pulled back one of my sleeves and itched some scratches on my arm that were slightly red; I had run into someone as I was walking out of the grocery store, and I guess they had sharp nails or something because they had effectively given me three short scratch marks up my forearm. I had a terrible habit of itching and picking at scabs and other minor injuries that I would somehow acquire, and the scratches were no exception. I pulled my sleeve back down glanced over the kitchen; I needed to move those jars from the island. That would just bug the crap out of me if I didn't put them somewhere where they weren't so disorganized. I walked back over to the island, but I stopped before I could pick the four glass jars up and move them. I could feel someone at my door. Sure enough, a few seconds later there was knocking at my door. I rounded the island, grabbing the largest kitchen knife I had at my disposal. What? Better be safe than sorry. As I walked up to the door, I could feel the energy change; there was no human standing behind the door - it was a werewolf. I tightened my grip on the knife. I only knew two werewolves in Beacon Hills, and it was totally not the alpha, Scott, behind the door. I glanced through the peep hole to find that familiar blond hair. It was Isaac. I undid the chain lock and then the regular lock before pulling the door open wide. Isaac was holding a big white, slightly transparent Tupperware bin.

"Isaac? What are you doing here? And at this hour?"

"Deaton sent me, with these," he said, lifting up the bin slightly.

"Really? _Deaton _sent _you _to _my _apartment at-" I glanced took a few steps back to look at the time on the cable box for the TV in the living room, "-12:32 a.m.?"

He just shrugged, saying, "Deaton said you'd be awake."

How did Deaton know I'd be awake at this time? Maybe he had installed security - wait a minute... _Sophie. _Dammit. I sighed.

"C'mon in," I said, motioning towards the inside of the apartment loosely with the kitchen knife I had forgotten I'd been holding. "What's in the box, anyways?"

"Deaton said it was-" Isaac said as he began to step forward, but his hands caused a sort of flare affect as he tried to walk through the door frame. He tried again, but the same thing happened. He opened his mouth to say something, but I started talking before he could get a word out.

"That makes sense," I said stepping up to the door. I squinted up at the top of the framing, looking for the piece I had found earlier. Ah ha, there it was. I reached my hands up to the frame, using the knife as a wedge to wiggle a triangle-shaped piece of wood out of the it.

"What are you...?"

I got the triangle out, showing him the piece of the door frame. "The frame is made out of mountain ash. You should be able to get in now." I took a few steps back, giving Isaac space to step into the apartment. He stepped into the short hallway with ease this time, and I closed the door behind him, shoving the wedge back into place. "Uh, you can put the box on the kitchen counter," I said as I followed Isaac. "What did you say was in it?"

He set it down on the island, next to the empty jars I had was going to move before I had been interrupted by someone at my door. "I was told it was-" he used air quotes for the last word, "-supplies."

"More supplies? Uh, hold on a sec," I said, walking backwards out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Stand there awkwardly in the kitchen while I go and get something." I turned and ran to my bedroom, pulling my suitcase out of where I had stored it in the closet. I unzipped it and pulled out a wooden box that took up half of the suitcase all by itself, bringing it back into the kitchen with me. I put it on the floor, to not forget that I needed to put what was in the box into my witch cupboard as well. "Now, to the box. Lets see what goodies this thing holds." I pulled open the lid with little effort, and was surprised with what I saw. "No way. _No fucking way._" I instantly reached my hands in to grab what I had seen out.

"What?" Isaac asked, leaning forward to look into the box, putting his hands on the counter.

"Uh, you don't want to—" was all I managed to get out before he touched the counter. He yelped in pain, pulling his hands quickly of the of counter and pulling them to his chest. "—touch the counter," I got out with a sigh. Isaac had arrived before I could take care of the empty jars and wipe down the counter of whatever I had spilled on it - one of the jars that was accidentally knocked over being full of powdered wolfsbane. "I didn't clean it off yet." I pulled my hands out of the Tupperware box. "Show me your hands." He obeyed, slowly taking his hands from his chest and holding them out for me. I took them, turning them palms-up, looking for any cuts or scrapes that the powder could have gotten into. Nope, there was nothing. I let go of his hands, clearing my throat and glancing up at him. "You should probably wash them, just to be safe."

**.**

I glanced at the clock - it was 1:27 a.m.

I had cleaned off the counter about forty-five minutes ago, offered Isaac ice cream in return for (unintentionally, indirectly and temporarily) injuring him forty minutes ago (which he happily accepted), and started taking things from my supplies box (now boxes) and organizing about thirty-five minutes ago. Isaac had taken one of the stools that had been nestled under the counter and set it just outside the perimeter of the kitchen, clambered on top of it, and watched me move around the island (while eating the bowl of ice cream), taking things from from my wooden supplies box (which had been relocated to the island counter) and the Tupperware supplies box (which had been relocated to the floor) and putting them in my witch cupboard, only to take everything out and try to put everything back in so it would all fit properly while looking nice and organized at the same time. I had forgotten that he had even been sitting there watching me try and get every damn ingredient and supply to fit into the single, two-shelfed cupboard until I heard him set the plastic bowl on the hardwood floor next to his stool.

"Isaac, do you just want to stay the night?" I asked, wringing my hands together. That sounded weird, oh my god, he was going to take it the wrong way.

"What?" he asked, a slightly surprised look on his face.

"Well, more like 'stay the morning' since it's like one-thirty in the morning; but it's late, well, early actually - what I'm trying to say here is that it's going to take me a while longer to figure out how to fit all of my newly-acquired witch supplies into that damn little cupboard, I mean, I'll probably have to designate the one next to it as a witch cupboard too. Maybe just all three of them? Maybe... But I'm not talking about my cupboard, I mean, I _am, _but that's not the point I'm trying to make here. It's late - early, whatever. I'm going to be a while. Deaton probably wants that Tupperware bin back. You can sleep here if you want; I'm not pressuring you here, you don't have to if you don't want to, but you're welcome to."


	4. Pack Conference Call

There was soft knocking on my door, followed by someone quietly whispering, "Evan." I rolled over, grabbed my phone and turned it on, becoming temporarily blinded by the bright light of the screen in my perpetually dark room (it was the curtains, they are everywhere). It was only 8:28 in the morning, meaning I had only gotten four hours of sleep. Okay, I happened to get a case of the midnight munchies (more like 2:30 a.m. munchies, but whatever) while I was sorting and made some food, taking it out to the living room so I could actually sit down on a comfortable couch, not a hard stool. After I ate, I took a break to watch some T.V. Distracted. I got distracted. There was another knock on my door, and I leapt out of my bed, pulling the door open. Isaac was standing there, his clothes looking slightly disheveled. I was suddenly aware that I was wearing my pajamas - a pair of shorts that could be easily mistaken for underwear, a tee shirt two times too large for me, and absolutely no bra.

"Just a second," I said quickly, shutting the door in his face. I ran to the closet, throwing the door open and pulling a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants off of the floor and pulling them on. I scurried to the bathroom, dragging a brush quickly through my hair before walking calmly back to the door. I pulled it open, more modestly dressed this time. "Sorry."

"Uh, the door," he said, making a vague pointing gesture towards the living room. I wanted to hit myself in the face. The door. How had I forgotten about the door?

"Oh, yeah," I said, feeling like a complete and utter idiot. I slid out of my room, closing the door behind me, and padded across the hardwood floor from my room to the front door, Isaac in tow. I got up on on my tiptoes when I reached the door, starting at pushing the wooden wedge, pushing it up with my fingernails to try and get it out of its triangle-shaped home. As I battled with the wedge, I heard Isaac pick the plastic bin off of the ground. I finally got the devil wedge out and took a step back, pulling the door open for him. He went forward, crossing the threshold, but stopped and turned around.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night."

"Yeah, no problem," I said, threading my hand into my hair to push it out of my face.

Aaaaaand cue an awkward silence. A _very long _awkward silence. I scrambled for something else to say, but I couldn't think of anything whatsoever. Well shit.

"Uh, I'm gonna go," he finally said, motioning down the hall with the bin.

"Okay, uh, see ya." He began to walk down the hall and I shut the door, before slamming my head - gently - against it. I was such an idiot. I hit my head against the door a few times after that, muttering to myself. Idiot - _thump _- idiot - _thump -_ idiot - _thump_.

I eventually pulled my head off of the door and shoved the triangle back into it's place. I walked back into my room, and face planted back into the bed. But alas, I was hit in the boob - ow - by something hard. I dug around in the covers before finding it was - my phone. That triggered a memory - I needed to call Sophie. I rolled onto my back, holding my phone up in front of my face. I scrolled through my contacts, only I got to her number. I mean, I could of just used speed dial, but whatever. I pressed the call button and promptly dropped my phone on my face - which I completely deserved. I'd dropped my phone so many times, the number was nearly uncountable. I guess today was the day it had begun its attack on me as payback. I picked up the phone and moved it - after pressing the speaker button - from where it had slid next to my head to a decent distance away - in case of another attack - and rubbed my face where it had hit. I wouldn't be surprised if I had a bruise tomorrow from it.

"What's wrong?" was the first thing that came through the speaker.

"Nothing's wrong, Soph - unless you count dropping my phone on my face, absolutely nothing. I can't just call because I want to?"

"Well, I suppose you can," Sophie sighed, and I could tell she was pursing her lips even though I couldn't see her, "seeing as you are right now. How's the apartment? Beacon Hills? Get into any trouble yet?"

"Incredibly dusty and good; haven't been around much yet. And school starts tomorrow, so I have plenty of time to do that. How's it been at Sophie's Home for Wayward Supernatural Creatures without me? Miserable? Just barely getting by?"

"I appreciate your sarcasm, Evan, but no. It's been quiet, almost too quiet. There has yet to be a Jenga piece flung across the living room, but it's still early. But, there is some breaking news: Noah's finally got a girlfriend-" Noah was the oldest werewolf at the foster home - well, excluding Sophie - at 17.

I perked up, hearing that. "Finally got up the courage to ask Lexis out?"

"Yeah, finally," she said, and I could tell she had rolled her eyes.

"Let's hope he doesn't bring her home. You know I had enough trouble with that," I said, letting out a sigh. Bringing boys home - to a home full of werewolves - was absolutely ridiculous. 0/10, do not recommend. Those little shits had no sense of privacy and would listen in, even after I had told them that if they did they would wake up without toes in two days time.

"Let's hope he's careful."

"Yeah. We both know what happened with Eddie." Ah, Eddie was never going to live it down.

"Oh, speaking of Eddie - he's still trying to make a move on Sydney." Eddie was the second oldest, only a month behind Noah. Sydney - a druid, not a werewolf - was older then both Noah and Eddie by at least four months, and was almost 18.

"I hope he knows that's _never_ going to happen," I said, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I keep telling him that, but he just won't listen. Sydney got accepted into the University of Arizona, and she's thinking about doing something science related."

"She should go for plant studies or whatever - something like that would help her. And he's gonna have to give up when she goes to college."

"Not likely," she sighed. "In other news, Alex and Jordan got on the varsity and junior varsity football teams, respectively." Alex was 16, eight months younger than Eddie; Jordan was the youngest, at 14.

"Good for them! Oh, those jocks are going to be so embarrassed to get beat up by two teenage girls."

"You know beating up people is not the objective in football, right?."

"Yeah, I know. I just can't wait to see one of the boys be starstruck because he was tackled by a 14-year-old girl."

"And last but not least, Felix just figured out how to control his shift." And there was Felix - who was one of the middle children, along with Alex, Eddie, and Noah - who was 15, and the newest to being a werewolf (he'd arrived at the home a months ago). I'm between Sydney and Noah on the ever-complicated age line.

"He must be so excited, that takes lots of practice." Oh god, I remember growing up in a house where three out of the four resident werewolves - Eddie, Alex and Jordan - couldn't control their shifting. It was the worst, and ended up in lots of broken furniture.

"Are they all home?" I suddenly asked.

"All but Sydney, she spent the night at Kendra's."

"Are they all awake? Can I talk to them?"

"YES YOU CAN!" came a voice that I instantly recognized as Jordan's.

"Let me guess - all five of you are huddled around the phone."

"Nope," Noah said, "you're currently on the coffee table and we're seated around it."

"How did you all keep quiet? That seems like a difficult task for the five of you."

"Sophie made us stand across the room," Felix groaned.

"But she let us listen in," Alex added.

"And I'm guessing Eddie's all bummed about my Sydney comment and won't talk to me," I said, to which I received an upset grunt.

"When are you gonna visit?" Jordan asked.

"I've been away for three days and you already want me to visit?"

"Well, we all miss you -" Alex started.

"- uh, correction," Eddie said, his sass currently at max, "Jordan, Felix, Sophie, Noah, Sydney, and Alex miss you, while I hold hostile resentment against you."

"Never gonna give up on Sydney, are you?"

"No," Sophie sighed, "he's not. Even after she goes to college."

"Well, addressing the visit question - I'll visit when I can." I paused for a moment, thinking of a second option. Sophie was going to kill me for suggesting it, but it was worth the risk. "Or maybe you guys could come over here...?"

"Are there werewolves in Beacon Hills too?" Felix asked excitedly.

"Yeah, a few."

"Who's the alpha?" Noah asked, before quickly adding, "I bet I could take him."

"Sexist much, Noah? The alpha in Beacon Hills could be a girl."

"Yeah!" I heard Alex and Jordan say at the same time.

"Well, you'll just have to come over here and find out for yourself."

And then the yelling started, mostly asking Sophie if they could come and visit. She yelled for them to all be quiet, and then ordered them all into the kitchen, saying that she'd think about it. After the noise stopped, I heard the phone being picked up and a button being pressed.

"I'm going to kill you for suggesting that," Sophie sighed into the speaker, before chuckling and saying, "Road Trip: Beacon Hills, 2k14."

"They're going to drive you absolutely bonkers the whole ride. Sorry for suggesting it. But hey, thanks for the motorcycle," I said, forgetting completely that that was one of the reasons I was going to call Sophie in the first place.

"No problem, Evan. Hey, I gotta go - I think a fight has broken out in the kitchen over the last poptart. Be safe, love you."

I was silent, for only a second, but apparently that was a second too long.

"Say it," she said and I could hear sounds of shouting getting louder, and I was pretty sure I heard the phrase '_so help me, I will shove your fingers into the toaster and set it on fire_', but I probably imagined it. "Say it or I'm going to drive all the way out there and make you say it."

I groaned, "fine. Love you too."

"Atta girl," she said, hanging up.

Ugh. I was going to go back to sleep, and try not to think of the damage that would come to my precious apartment because of _Road Trip: Beacon Hills, 2k14._


End file.
